


War Of Hearts

by EOxensternia



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, And fabulous, Ass-Kicking, Human Allura (Voltron), I'm Bad At Tagging, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is stressed out, M/M, No actual Kallura, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Sorry for anyone who ships it, broganes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EOxensternia/pseuds/EOxensternia
Summary: Shadow hunter Au!The Koganes have run the institute of New York for countless years, a punishment of the clave for the family's betrayal.This punishment is accepted, embraced, what was meant to be a prison is a home instead.Keith is to run the Institute in his mothers steed, approved by the clave, a marriage arranged to Allura of the Starkweathers of Idris. To serve as to bring honour back to the family name.Everything is motion.Everything is Accepted.Until Keith meets the High warlock of Brooklyn, Lance McClain, who awakens foreign emotions in the already hectic heart of the soon to marry Shadow hunter.After being shown freedom to love by Lance, being shown acceptance of who he is, Keith is thrown into confusion.Does he follow his heart like he has be shown to do? Does he follow his head like he's been trained to?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry if this is a little... Meh, but this is my first work, based off of Malec, who I love but its gonna have some twists and turns in it. After all, Klance has two different individuals, so really, I've adapted (or at least am trying to) shadow hunters for Lance and Keith.
> 
> Let me know what you think please!

_"No, I'm done." Came a tired voice, the warlock having retired to the balcony, knuckles white as his hands gripped the railing._  
_Faced away from the man that was breaking his heart, over looking his territory, trying to calm the pain in his chest. To rid his throat of the lump that did not allow him to speak. "Go. Get out."_

 _The footsteps that had been approaching stopped, gloved hands pausing by the younger's sides, fingers flexing as his eyes were glued to the ground._  
_"Lance, please, understand."_

_"Didn't you hear me?" That usually sweet tone had turned bitter, hurt, rasped by sorrow. "I said Get out. Get out, Get out!"_

_The Cuban turned to Keith, tears having welled in his eyes as he shouted, launching a flower pot at the other._  
_He didn't WANT to understand! He was done trying to understand! He should have never broken his own rule to never get involved with Nephilim business._

 _Clay smashed just before they could even hit Keith's boots, the person responsible for throwing it nor having the heart to hit him with it._  
_"Please! Please, Lance! Just let me talk to you!"_

 _"No! I'm done! I'm done playing second fiddle to your family," At this, blue sparked from his fingers as they were clicked, a portal appearing behind his lover as he spoke, hand motioning for the adolescent to go through it, " to your duties! I will not let you hurt me like this anymore, Keith. You have a choice to make, choose the institute, lose your life, your chance of happiness, be the Claves good little soldier or you can choose me._  
_"You can choose me, choose to be yourself."_

_Though the Ravenette tried to speak, he was silenced by the liquid droplets of pure misery running down the down worlders face, taking with them eyeliner to colour them black, only accenting the others cat like eyes._

_It was with a sigh that he turned, stepping to the portal, looking to the other over his shoulder before stepping through, immediately appearing back in his room._  
_Back in the stupid institute, away from Lance who was already pouring himself a glass of whiskey as he allowed himself to sob._

_Stupid, stupid boy. Stupid him for allowing the boy into his heart._


	2. § Exotic Dancer? §

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in a boy of angel blood meets another of Demon blood.

It was just a normal night, nothing special about it except the fact that a string of down worlder murders had been occurring almost every day for week. 

It was taking too long on their own, and against his mother's wishes, he'd been sent to see the high warlock, to request help. The institute was very peculiar about who they interacted with, especially when it came to magic wielders.

What he'd been told of Lance McClain was typical of the generation before him who did not even try to accept those who are not of seraphic alliance as equals.

Foreign devil, he'd heard countless times, no shame with the soirées he would throw, the way he would dress to attract attention purposely with a ridiculous amount of glitter.

So no physical features? How helpful... one of many bitter thoughts that had come to mind.

Of course, the Ravenette held no grudges against those who had given no reason to, so he had hoped that if this 'Lance' was as powerful as many had said that he was, the institute would change its mind to a more modern way of thinking.  
One where down worlders and the members of the Seelie Courts were allies until proven to be other wise, instead of instantly being shunned for their demonic blood.

A shiver ran through him, the slight sound of shuffling audible as the jacket was drawn tighter around its wearer.

It was cold.  
Freezing in fact, the recent rain showers didn't exactly help either, just making him even more glad that Keith had remembered to Glamour himself.  
It would do no good a Mundane spying a freezing shadowhunter and try to help without knowing who they were.

Far more trouble than it was worth.

Dull Orange would occasionally make its appearance on the bricks of the alley he travelled down, appearing as a smattering of broken patterns in small puddles that leather boots splashed through, the walk as silent as a lion stalking it's prey.  
The further along you go, the less water damage there was on the tarmac.  
The less green flora snaking up the buildings like demon pox, less smashed windows there were.  
The newer everything was.

To some, reaching the fire escape and it being the only thing that stood between you and your destination, it would be an exciting moment. One of relief perhaps.  
But not for the young Kogane.  
It seemed too easy, too... Approachable.

Drawing ever closer, slowly, step by step, violet eyes narrowed on the door that they eventually came to after a good five minutes of climbing the metal stairs.  
A pale, gloved hand rose to knock, never even touching the door as it suddenly swung open to reveal an interesting yet somehow... Alluring individual.

Soft, Caramel flesh, wrapped over long, thin limbs that moved with a grace that could have mirrored the nephilim, hiding the magic that ran through the Man's veins.  
A mop of hair the colour of espresso, curling against a face that Keith realised was still quite boyish despite it's owners true age. Close to his own in fact..  
He was handsome, undeniably, those lips, those cheek bones, smooth skin.  
But those eyes.  
So small that the colour was barely visible in the low light that escaped the apartment the door lead to, the shadowhunters attention didn't seem to be able to be taken away until there was a chuckle.

Immediately, he refocused, mentally scolding himself and reminding his stupid imagination that this was for business, nothing less, nothing more.

"Are you Lance McClain? The warlock?"

"Well, I'm certainly not Lance McClain, the exotic dancer."


	3. A little flirting, no hurting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting and briefing, flirting and no hurting.  
> Yet.

"Well? What do you want?"

Keith swallowed slightly in response to the question, looking to the warlock and earning a scoff, an eye roll as well, those small, navy pupils highlighted by golden eyeshadow, the taller boy walking inside, motioning for the other to follow after with a curling finger and a smirk.

"If it's all the same to you, Nephilim, I'd prefer to do business and interrogations in the warm." Those words had an edge to them, a purr, almost inviting rather than the harsh of that's what had been intended.

And Keith Followed. Then stopped after the door slammed closed after him.

It was... Not how he had pictured it. But then again, neither was Lance, really.

Modern Interior, furnished with trendy antiques that could have easily been from the era who's style they mimicked. But there was some pieces in there that made it look not so... Out of place. A large, cerulean sofa with a multitude of white pillows and a match throw over it, an arm chair furnished in exactly the same way next to it at a slight inwards angle. Silverish shag carpets, which meant that his shoes needed to be removed lest they be ruined.

The Warlock stopped at one of the large, arched windows, sitting on the padded edge that was plenty big enough for two, hand patting the spit next to him with a wink. "Come and join me, then we can talk."

Oh, how Lance loved a challenge, especially from someone so beautiful. There was an ever obvious weak spot for such exotic looking men like the one before him.

Eyes that narrowed at him, toned muscles that rolled with each step only to stop by the place where the Warlock sat. Thick ebony hair paired with such a rare and entrancing colour, like a dozen liliacs and violets crushed together, moods ever changing in them like the weather.

And those Lips. Lush lips that looked a little chapped to be honest, but tempting none the less, his eyes glued to them, not even realising he'd been spoken to until the corners of them pointed down in a frown.

"Sorry, what?" Lance asked, reluctantly turning his attention from its previous interest, settling on the others face.

"I asked if you knew anything about the last three murders that have been happening. Last night they got a-" 

"A warlock?" 

"How did you know that?" Keith's question was met with a shrug that seemed to say _'How DON'T I know?'._ "Who else knows?" 

A pregnant pause followed another shrug, a slender hand coming to run gracefully through the tangle of dark chocolate strands on the immortal's head. The topic was quickly spreading through Down world. First it had been a wolf, then a Vampire, now another Child of Lilith. But Lance was uninterested in this subject, until he was asked for help with the autopsies, to see if there would be any kind of clue or indication of who was behind it, especially when he was asked to name his price.

"My Price?" He hummed, eyes flicking over the other with the smirk returning, "Money just doesn't seem to be enough~."

"Then what? Because we could easily find another-"

"Oh? Could you? You forget that the others do not HAVE to help the clave as you do. You'll be shot down many times and no closer to the truth than you are now." Small sparks of blue came off his fingers as he tutted the other. "How about seeing you again? Have some drinks and speak more about this? Because by the looks of that fidgeting, I'm guessing you have to go?"

The shadowhunter blinked down at the other in surprise, heart fluttering oddly in his chest. "You mean, a date?"

"No, no. Just simply meeting with a client." But that was essentially what he was asking for, then he could demand proper payment later.

Curiously, his fingers came to trace a rune on the back of the others left hand, eyes never leaving his as a small tingle of electricity shot through the Seraphic soldier from the Voyane mark. "How about it? Yes or no?"

"Fine." The ravenette grumbled as he snatched his hand back, agreeing as his phone began to ring, heading to the door, leaving a satisfied downworlder sat by the window with a smug smile. 

"I'll text you!"

"You don't have my number!" Was called back, lacking any humour.

"I'm magic, finding a phone number is nothing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys, I've been told including the so g the chapter was written to would be a good idea, so I'm going to start including them so you might be able to get a better feel of the scene I'm trying to create.
> 
> Prologue : War of hearts - Ruelle  
> Chapter 2: Eyelids - PVRIS  
> Chapter 3: Too Good - Troye Sivan


	4. Parabatai Pickup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro notices his Parabatai acting a little different after visiting Meeting with Lance being interrogated by the head of the institute.

"What do you mean,  _You didn't get any information or a guarantee for help."_

Keith couldn't stop the small twitch in his muscles, almost like a flinch from his mother's terrifyingly calm and level tone.

Furious, no doubt. Even though she had been the one to call him back home after sending him to meet the High Warlock of Brooklyn, before he could secure his help.

Which was exactly how he got dragged into going for drinks with that stupid down worlder. Honestly, what was his problem? Constantly staring at Keith, eyes giving away nothing, though he suspected that he was being sized up.

Maybe he'd been considered a threat? He honestly couldn't see how.

As the meeting was relayed to Krolia in detail, the occasional frown or fingers drumming in the desk wasn't exactly missed. Noticing the slight change of the others tone when Lane was mentioned and spoke of.

The shifting of eyes over the office, from the stone fire place that let the smell of smoke in the room very mintuely, to the deep mahogany and paintings in the walls of their ancestry. The way they lingered on the uncovered windows and looked out for a few seconds at time.

It made her think that perhaps now was a good time to call in a favour from Alfor back in Idris and make good on their arrangement before her son set his eyes on anyone seriously.

Once the explanation was complete, the Korean woman dismissed her child, sighing as her hands ran through that usually messy yet styled hair. When did he become so troublesome and frustrating? So... Confused? She couldn't even tell what he was feeling anymore, the child that bated emotions and saw them as a barrier.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .    .  .  .   .  

Of course, the initial confusion was obvious to one other individual in the vicinity of a certain frustrated, younger man.

Arrows were being fired at a furious speed, the archer cursing everytime one was fired and missed the mark, one even almost hitting the person he considered a brother for so many years now.

"Shit, sorry Shiro."

Transferred over from Japan for reasons that had been forgotten, the two had been close ever since their early adolescence, choosing each other as a sort of blood brother bond by the magic of the silent brothers until the end of their days.

"Don't worry about it, you should be happy it was me and not your mother." A rich, deep, and short laugh left the much more physically imposing Parabatai, head tilting curiously  at the deep frown on his partner's face, a large hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Come on, tell Takashi what's wrong."

Of course, it was more than intuition. It was the knowledge from knowing the other that something was obviously not okay.

And so, after one more in depth description about his encounter with Lance, Takashi was staring blankly at the shorter male.

Unfortunately, when it came to emotions, both were quite oblivious, so the Warlocks suggestive looks, the clear date invitation, had gone over both of their heads.

"I just don't get it? I mean, I'm actually kind looking forward to this... But that's stupid right? There's no reason for me to be looking forward to this, right?"

That only earned a shrug and a confused expression, followed by a hum that sounded vaguely like ' _I don't know' ._

With a groan of frustration, the blade from his weapons belt was drawn, ready to be thrown before a familiar theme tune went off in the training room, a gloved hand immediately digging around in the pocket of a pair of sweat pants for the ringing device.

_A text from an unknown number, how cliché._

The message was quickly opened and upon reading it, the number instantly save under 'Pain in the Ass', for having chosen to contact him at the most inconvenient time possible.

**(1) Unread Message,**

**From: Pain in the Ass.**

**Tomorrow Night, 9pm, My place. We'll walk to the bar together. Unless, you'd rather go on your own?**

Slim fingers clicked away at the key pad of the outdated Black Berry, the volume being muted quickly after before returned to his pocket.

**To: Pain in the Ass.**

**I'll be there. See you at 9.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PVRIS - Same Soul
> 
> Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying it so far! The next chapter is where everything starts to get interesting, both in terms of Lance and Keith's relationship and Drama.


	5. Bars and Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you listen to them?" 
> 
> "What?"
> 
> "The Clave, institute, why do you listen to them?"  
> \-------------------------------
> 
> Lance and Keith discussing what the Clave actually want Lance to do, when it suddenly takes quite a personal turn in the conversation.

"Earth to Kogane!"

Came a sudden voice, snapping the young man from his revere, hands clapping near his face causing him to lean back and taking the chair which he was perched upon back with him, the floor rising to meet both furniture and person with an almost deafening thud.  
A hiss of pain sounded as his head bounced against the hard surface, gloved hands coming to cradle the injured part.

By the Angel, that hurt...

With Vision slightly impaired by welling water, violet eyes began searching for the source of the strange voice and who was responsible for his dying agony. And low, and surprise, would it be Ulaz, the Mentor for the Institute.

An almost rake man by standards of Nephilim but average by Mundanes, with strange features that held an almost bird like quality to them. Especially that long nose.  
Ulaz wasn't exactly there by choice, technically a prisoner of the clave, cursed to never leave the institute. A former circle member, evident by the large, red rune on the side of his throat that prevented too much information to be spilled about the head of the old organisation.  
But over time, he'd been trusted by the Koganes, mentored Keith and time Takashi as well.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Whatever the question was, I'm going to assume the answer is 'I don't know'." Was the candid answer given, a blank stare being given to the older man as Keith was helped up.

The statement, whilst truthful, was met with disapproval, correction, and a shake of the head.  
As well as extra training tomorrow, which earned a groan from the teenager in front of his mentor.

"I asked you to tell me about the meeting with McClain later. And to assure that you know the priorities. He's a slippery one, will have you spilling secrets in seconds." 

A silent chuckle left the ravenette as the other turned his attention away from his student, momentarily assessing the report that was being written.  
Well, had been being written before someone got distracted.

"Of course I know the priorities." Came an emotionless yet clearly annoyed response.

"Then list them."

One by one, Keith listed off the goals for that evening.  
Make known the requirements for the warlock, get the price, the word of the warlock and leave.   
Of course, referring to Lance - anyone really - as 'the warlock' was incredibly aggravating to the youth.   
Seriously?   
It was 2017, but hey, for the moment, the previous generation were running everything. Which meant, basically, that he should keep his mouth shut on that matter.

Slowly, each point was met with a nod of affirmation, signalling that he was right before a few more rules were added.  
No drinking, vigilance was needed in case of attack or should there be any threat to him and the down worlder he would be conversing with.  
No going off topic, there was no reason for anyone to know anything personal in case it was used against him.  
And most importantly, to remember that it was a mission. Not a night out with a friend, not leisurely hours. They didn't have leisure hours.

"So, seriously? No fun?" Keith asked skeptically, being answered with a soft smack up the back of the head, which caused another small hiss of irritation to leave his lips.

"You're not going for fun. This is business. Nothing more, nothing less."

\----------------------------------------------------

Night soon fell, and so did the time for the meet up.  
Standing outside of Lance's door, swaying from foot to foot idly, the man of angels blood tried to keep himself entertained.

First counting the number of bricks around the door frame - sixty to be exact - , to then follow the small startings of moss between brickwork, which quickly grew boring. Now choosing to count.   
Counting never got boring.   
Well, to Keith it didn't.

... 35, 36, 37, 38 ...

Lips mouthed the numbers as they were thought, eyes never ceasing their journey to find something to focus on.  
Why he was like this wasn't known to the family or community. A mundane doctor may know, but that was not worth being shunned and stripped of marks for use of Mundane medicine or medical use.

...45, 46, 47, 48, 49 - 

On Forty Nine - almost fifty- the door opened, and there appeared the High warlock of Brooklyn.

Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, a rather odd outfit had been chosen once more.

No shirt, just a waist coat, black with blue, glittering pinstripes, paired with deep Cerulean trousers and black shoes, that seemed to make him even taller than last time.   
Eyes decorated with a deep blueish- black eyeliner, a little oval of makeup at the corners the colour of the sky over them.   
Wrists and fingers adorned by silver bracelets and rings with different stones, saved from decades passed, all suited well together.

If it hadn't been for the fact that it made Keith speechless for once, a sarcastic comment would have been made sooner than one would think possible.  
But the amount of tanned skin on display, the smoothness of it, made his heart start to speed up, heat gather in his cheeks at the line of flesh visible above those hips as the taller stretched, eyes glued there before practically tearing the gaze to the others face once more.

Which didn't exactly help him calm.

A slender, almost ridiculously thin, brow rose on the warlock, eyes assessing the other with an amused smile.

"You okay there?"

"What...? I mean, of course I am. Just..." The Nephilim broke off at the end as Lances door, the door that had peeling paint coming off at parts on the outside of it, was closed. Gloved hands motioned to the space in front of them, getting across what was wanted.   
To leave, get a move on.

With a nod, they started off down the fire escape, towards the bar. 

"Aren't you cold like that?"

\----------------------------------------------------

Three blocks later and they were sat in the Hunter's Moon, Keith's Jacket draped over Lances shoulder like a luxurious Prize almost, or an expensive shawl.  
More like the favourite gear piece of gear for the ravenette, the piece that could always be worn and never be uncomfortable.  
But oh well, he had tons.

He just didn't understand why he'd handed it over so easily, or been concerned for the warmth of man across from him.  
Empathy maybe? Probably, unlikely though, it wasn't really in the vocabulary for a shadow hunter.

Ordering drinks, and choosing a booth in the corner of the bar, they sat, and began discussing the matter that had brought them to this agreed neutral zone.

Producing pictures of various wounds from the corpses of deceased children of the night, Lilith and the local pack, a frown came to Lance's face.

Oh, how romantic, dead down worlders. Exactly what I expected from this. The amount of sarcasm in that thought alone could have probably put many of his physical appearance to shame, having expected a little more, especially with the obvious chemistry between them.

As Keith explained each and everyone, Lance nodded, listening patiently, helping to fill in any words that the other struggled with.

"You're not exactly... Are you?"

"I'm smart, just not the quickest tool in the.... Tool box.." 

The laugh that had yo be suppressed luckily went unnoticed. Usually, you didn't find anyone this amusing, especially by accident. This was making the warlock believe that his initial opinion had been correct. 

"So, what do you need me for? Sounds like you've got this all figured out." 

"We need someone to make sure that these are what they look like. That there's no excess demon energies.. Maybe track the attacker?" 

"Of course... For a price." 

As Keith waited patiently, the others knee knocked against his, smirk present as he opened his mouth and-

A scream cut Lance off before he could even get the words out, all customers at the bar instantly going quiet.  
That wasn't a normal mundane scream.

"Seelie.." The magic wielder clarified with a shocked murmur, the man with him up and out the door before he could even be stopped, Lance after him with a small curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Ray - Diet Mountain Dew


End file.
